


you're still the best, more or less, i guess

by buckyy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckyy/pseuds/buckyy
Summary: When Sirius sees the broken look on Remus’s face, he finds himself wishing this particular blackout had killed him.***Alcoholic Sirius Black





	you're still the best, more or less, i guess

**Author's Note:**

> This is all based on personal experience, except I don't have a Remus to look after me. Modern non magical AU, because I wasn't sure how to translate my experiences into the canon world. Also, I'm 5 months sober now, yay

When Sirius wakes up, the first thing he notices is how cold he is. It takes a few seconds for him to register the throbbing ache in his entire body. It’s a couple of minutes before he realises he’s outside. Again.

Head pounding, he sits up slowly and looks at his surroundings. He’s not too far from the flat he shares with Remus, all things considered, but he still spent the night sleeping on the street because he was too drunk to get home. He fucking did that.

He’d be less mad at himself if this was the first time this had happened, but he’s starting to lose track of the amount of times he’s passed out in the middle of nowhere, either waking up alone, or being found and dropped off home by the police. It’s almost turned into a game, at this point. Guess what happened the night before, put together the pieces like a fucked up jigsaw, blurred, warped, incomplete.

He reluctantly drags himself to his feet, and checks his pockets. Keys, check, phone, check, wallet - fuck. The pavement around him is empty, no sign of any missing wallet. Well, it’s a pretty busy road he passed out on, and there’s bad people out there, more than willing to steal from a drunk sleeping rough.

He pulls out his phone, which is miraculously not out of battery. He opens the first of two texts, finding his loving, caring, way-too-good-for-him boyfriend telling him to be safe. Sirius can’t _wait_  to get home and disappoint him once more. He opens the next, and finds himself tempted to throw his phone off a bridge, and then himself after it. His bank was very kindly letting him know that _someone_ made a cash withdrawal of £200 from his account last night, and could he please call them to verify whether or not he recognises this transaction. He doesn’t, of course, but he vaguely remembers thinking after his 3rd cocktail pitcher he really ought to carry around cash more often, so it’s perfectly viable that maybe after his 10th he thought £200 was a decent amount to take out. He wonders if he at least managed to spend any of it on booze before his wallet pulled a disappearing act.

Falling against the wall, his chest heaves.

***

By the time he’s finished the 5 minute walk home, he’s thrown up nine times and is openly sobbing. He’s perfectly aware of how he must have looked, and the judgmental stares from strangers didn’t go unnoticed. He stands outside his front door, braces himself, and walks in.

***

At this point in their relationship, Remus is used to going to sleep alone. By the time he wakes up, Sirius is either snoring next to him, or standing at the door next to a policeman who looks like he hates his job. It’s not all that often that Remus finds the flat completely empty. But today is one of those days.

It’s 8am on a Monday morning and Sirius isn’t home yet. Although in the middle of London, anything is possible, Remus is pretty sure that all the local bars will have been closed for a fair few hours. Although it wouldn’t be the first time Sirius ended up passed out in the street, only managing to drag himself home the next morning, Remus immediately assumes the worst - he’s been killed, kidnapped, he fell into a river and drowned, or maybe he finally ended up in a jail cell - something he has only very narrowly avoided this far. He can’t decide between waiting it out or immediately calling the police, and eventually comes to the conclusion that he needs a bloody cup of tea.

Infinitely grateful for his day off, Remus sits on the sofa, his steaming mug warming his hands. They’re shaking enough that he should be worrying about spillages, but all he can think about is whether or not his boyfriend is alive. He checks his phone - nothing from Sirius, but he doubts it would be coherent if there was anything. He’s just about to call him, when he hears a key in the lock. He walks to the front door, and waits.

***

When Sirius sees the broken look on Remus’s face, he finds himself wishing this particular blackout had killed him.

***

The man who enters the flat is a mess. Beneath the bruised arms, dark eyes, and tangled mop of hair, Sirius looks just about ready for death. Remus is torn between relief that he’s alive and anger that he’s done this, _again_. Relief usually wins out. Today is anger.

He grabs the box of tablets on the table on the hallway, throwing them to the disheveled wreck standing the doorway.

“Take your medication. I’ll be in the bedroom.” Remus turns to walk away, but stops to look over his shoulder. He sniffs, and pulls a face, somewhere between disgust and pity.

“Take a shower too.” And with that, he closes the door on Sirius.

***

Sirius is pretty sure his antidepressants will have no effect if he throws them up, but he takes them anyway, not wanting to upset Remus anymore. He drags himself into the shower, emptying his stomach a few more times, and finds he doesn’t have the energy to stand. As he sits on the shower floor, the water threatening to drown him, he considers what life would be like if he was sober. For perhaps the first time ever, Sirius admits to himself that he isn’t brave enough to try.

It takes half an hour for him to finally wash his hair and scrub down his body, although he can hardly say he feels clean. He uses the mango shower gel - the one he knows Remus loves - in the vain hope that maybe he can smell himself back into his good graces. He throws his clothes straight into the washing machine, and pulls a tank top and some boxers out of the dryer.

By the time he finds himself hanging up the towels, he’s fully aware he’s putting off facing his boyfriend for as long as he can. Upsetting Remus is like when you break your streak on Duolingo, and that stupid fucking owl sends you a notification and you feel guilty for the rest of the day - except instead of a stupid fucking owl it’s the love of your life, and instead of skipping verbs you ruined your life by getting addicted to whiskey.

He opens the door to their bedroom and stands awkwardly in the entrance, looking at Remus sitting on the bed, with his legs stretched out in front of him. He's staring at the TV in front of the bed, but not really watching, and Sirius can't decide if he should approach him or stay where he is and wait. The decision is made for him, however, when Remus turns off the random repeat of Catchphrase and stands up.

“I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen. For once in your life, you’re shutting up. Okay? Good. Do you have any idea how it feels when I know you’re out there, getting into states where god knows what could happen to you? I really think it’s impossible for you to go out for just a couple of beers, you _always_ get fucked up. Every time. And you honestly don’t care what happens to you, do you? You really don’t care if you live or die?”

He’d started to shout, but his voice breaks on the last word, and he feels tears spring into his eyes. Normally he’d try to will them away, but he knows Sirius can’t stand to see him cry, and he needs to feel guilty right now.

“Well I do. God, Sirius, I don’t want to lose you. I _can't_ lose you. And it’s not just the nights out. You’re always drinking at home, too. There’s never any alcohol on the house, because as soon as we buy it, you drink it! Have you ever been sober for more than 24 hours?”

Sirius shrugs and looks at the floor, unable to stand the hurt in Remus’s eyes. He stays looking down, when he speaks for the first time that day, his voice rough from the puking.

“Remusthere’ssomethingIneedtotellyou.”

Remus, who wasn’t done talking, looks taken aback, but allows Sirius the opportunity to speak.

“I, uh, lost my wallet. Which had £200 in it.”

Remus’s expression is unreadable. He’s quiet for a good 10 seconds, his face blank, looking just past Sirius, rather than at him. Eventually, he still teary eyes snap to the now crying man in front of him.

“You are never drinking again.”

***

Day 1 of sobriety is spent hungover. Sirius spends the day in bed with a bucket, and Remus brings him food and plenty of water. He manages to stay awake all day, and sleeps through the night without incident.

Day 2 is slightly more rough. The alcohol is just about flushed from his system, and his body isn’t used to it. He has to stay above the covers, to combat the sweats, but he clings to Remus and survives the day. Once again, Remus forces water down him every 10 minutes, but it does nothing to help the nightmares that plague his sleep.

Day 3 is the worst. Remus couldn’t get another day off, so he spends the day alone, with sweats, shaking, vomiting, and a headache that feels like his brain is in a vice, and some fucker keeps turning the handle. Remus had had the foresight to leave 4 big bottles of water by the bed, and texted him frequently reminding him to drink it, but the bottles are heavy and his hands are shaking so much that Sirius gives up. Remus had also left a pasta salad by the bed, which he eats for lunch, and as soon as Remus gets home, he’s back to looking after his boy.

Sirius needs all the looking after he can get.

***

It’s a been a week of Sober Sirius when James and Lily come round to visit. They wanted to keep their distance, so he didn’t feel crowded, but also let him know that they were rooting for him and his recovery, so they waited for a text from Remus, letting them know he was up for company.

When they arrive, baby Harry in tow, Sirius is on the couch, watching The A-Team, and although he’s slightly paler than normal, he looks okay. Remus sits on the floor to play with Harry, and James and Lily sit on either side of Sirius, both wrapping an arm each around his shoulders.

“You really fucked up, didn’t you?”

“James, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Sirius chuckles and snuggles up to Lily.

“It’s okay, Lils. I did. No point sugar coating it.” He switches sides then, and cuddles closer to James. “James, you’re a dickhead but I love you.”

James smiles and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, well, you’re a boozy cunt. But I love you too.”

They turn their attention to the TV, where Face is currently flying a tank, because apparently physics doesn’t exist in the world of The A-Team.

“I think I’d be Face, because I’m sexy and get all the women,” James smirks, and Lily rolls her eyes - something she’s done frequently since marrying this absolute tosser. “And Sirius would be Murdock, because he’s batshit crazy but we all adore him anyway.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

***

As the film ends, Remus heads into the kitchen and starts working on dinner, with Lily insisting on helping out, even though she’d brought cookies for dessert. James goes to the bathroom, and Sirius is left alone, with Harry for company.

Remus pokes his head into the living room, and can’t help but crack a smile at the sight he sees. His wonderful, beautiful, _sober_  boyfriend is sitting on the floor, playing peekaboo with his godson, who can’t seem to stop laughing. Sirius is laughing too, and Remus thinks this might be the most innocent scene he’s ever witnessed.

***

Hands wringing nervously in his lap, Sirius surveys the meeting around him. They were currently having a break, something Sirius didn’t know happened in AA meetings, and most people seemed to be hovered around the tea and biscuits station. Up in front, there was a desk, and on it were pamphlets, and copies of something called The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. Around him were rows of chairs, some occupied, some not. He’d taken an inconspicuous spot on the back row, but these people can smell fresh blood, and a few people had struck up conversation. He was delighted to find they were some of the nicest people he’d met.

After a few more minutes, the chair takes her seat at the desk, and bangs a pot on the table. “Okay, meeting back in progress. Would anyone like to share?”

Sirius takes a deep breath, and speaks up.

“Hi, I’m Sirius, and I’m an alcoholic.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Also, I know it's uncommon for people to speak at their first meeting, but I wanted that line to be the last line, so whatever. Pls let me know if you enjoyed because I thrive on compliments <3


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